Word: ella
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Dates: during 1990-1999
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When Chase stumbles upon the body of Ella Fisher, a black dean, dead from an apparent fall, she's sure that the wrong kind of invisible hand is at work. She investigates the victim's death with two weapons: an analytical mind and an unabashed use of her feminine wiles. Flattering and flirting, she makes her way through the suspects: the playboy university president who promoted Fisher from the secretarial ranks, allegedly thanks to her talents between the sheets; a slimy comptroller with a repertoire of bilingual--but still awful--come-ons (as in, "You're looking recherche this evening...
...mind to begin my account upon the first occasion when I truly knew where things stood with me, that is, that afternoon of the day my father, Arthur Harkness, was taken to the Quincy graveyard and buried between my mother, Cora Mary Harkness, and his first wife, Ella Harkness...
Besides, the American civil rights movement wasn't just Martin Luther King Jr.; it was also Ella Baker, Fannie Lou Hamer, Rosa Parks. As for nonviolent social activists and leaders--What about Jane Addams, Petra Kelly, Dorothy Day, Aung San Suu Kyi? And why flatter Lenin by leaving out two of his staunchest ideological opponents, the Polish-German socialist Rosa Luxemburg and the American anarchist Emma Goldman...
...knew I was in trouble a few nights later when Ella and I were blissfully kung-fuing away in a martial-arts game. My wily six-year-old was trying to pull an unlikely Peking Pile Driver (as if I were born yesterday!), and I was this far from executing a perfect Triple-Death Windmill Kick that would have punted her out of the arena when the phone rang. "It's someone from work for you, Dada," she said, in that adorable, squeaky baby voice. "Hurry up so I can kick your ass!" My wife looked at me. "Educational...
...America Online). She is also spellbinding. Indeed, our conversation with Julia was so realistic my girls, convinced that a carbon-based life-form was doing the real typing, insisted the whole thing was a scam. "Do you like cats?" Julia asked us. "Nope," I typed back, nudging Zoe and Ella to watch as I tripped up the primitive program. "I like pizza." "Great," replied Julia. "I go crazy for pizza." Doh! Next, Ella, the bawdiest member of her first-grade class (she can sing virtually any Green Day song, four-letter-word for word), pecked out an unprintable suggestion. Julia...